


Frigga's Boon

by shell



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Marvel Trumps Hate 2019
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:28:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25543633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shell/pseuds/shell
Summary: "I would grant you a boon," Frigga told him.
Relationships: Barney Barton/Laura Barton, Clint Barton/Phil Coulson
Comments: 79
Kudos: 88





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [weepingnaiad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/weepingnaiad/gifts).



> This is going to be a WIP; the whole thing is plotted out, but I'm not sure how long it'll take me to get it written. For weepingnaiad for Marvel Trumps Hate!

**Prologue**

"I would grant you a boon," Frigga told him.

"A boon?" Phil asked. He'd been in Valhalla for some time now--weeks, if he had to guess, although time seemed to move differently there--and the last thing he'd expected to happen was a visit from Asgard's queen. Well, second-to-last, maybe, because the granting of a "boon," whatever that meant, kind of took the cake.

Frigga nodded solemnly. "My son has told me of your braveness, now that he has returned."

"Thor's back?" Phil asked, a touch too eagerly. "Can I talk to him? Is that the boon?" 

They'd told him how the battle had ended, had given him access to newspapers and television, enough that he knew the bare bones of it all. But that wasn't the same as talking to someone who'd been there.

"It is not," Frigga said, and Phil swallowed his disappointment. She smiled. "It may, however, be arranged."

After she'd explained the specifications of her gift, he took approximately a half second to decide what he would choose, but he waited until after he'd spoken to Thor to give her his decision. 

"You're sure?" she asked. "This is what you wish, not something else?"

Thor had asked him the same thing, and he had given the same answer. "Yes."

Frigga nodded to the bald woman standing next to her, and that was that.

**Chapter One**

_Kuwait, February, 1991_

"Coulson, with me."

Phil followed his CO dutifully into the command tent, relieved to be out of the sun. This operation wasn't exactly what he'd imagined when he'd listened to his grandfather's war stories, but little about his career thus far had measured up to his childhood dreams of becoming a Ranger. He stood at parade rest and waited for Major West to speak.

"I've got a mission for you, Coulson. Now, where did the--there it is." He handed Phil a folder. He opened it and found, along with a map, an envelope stamped TOP SECRET. "We've got a few soldiers trapped behind enemy lines, and you're their exfil. Pick a couple of men and go get them."

"Yes, sir." 

He knew better than to ask any questions. West took the whole idea of Rangers' independence and quick thinking too far, in Phil's opinion; there was nothing wrong with coming up with a plan (or six) beforehand, but West seemed allergic to the very idea. "You'll figure it out, Coulson," he'd told Phil the first time he briefed him. The next time Phil asked, he'd said the same, but with a frown and a reminder that Phil was a Ranger, or so he'd been told. By now Phil knew better than to ask. He remained standing while he read through the briefing, such as it was, a few times, since he also knew West never allowed anything classified out of his office. When he had memorized everything and thought through as many contingencies as he could, he took the map out of the folder and placed the rest of it back on West's desk.

"I'll take Garza and Chalmers, sir."

"I'll have one of the Apaches ready for you. Any preference on pilots?"

"Hakim would be my first choice, sir," Phil answered, surprised he was being given a choice for once. This mission must be important.

"I'll see to it. Be ready to leave in an hour."

"Yes, sir."

***

Once they were on the way to the small town where the wayward soldiers were hiding out, Phil fell into the clarity that he always found in theater. He and Garza worked well together, and although Chalmers was relatively green, having only completed his Ranger training a couple of months ago, he was shaping up to be an excellent soldier. They found the location where the men were supposedly waiting, but there was nothing there except the body of an Iraqi soldier and a worrisome amount of blood. Fortunately Chalmers saw a faint blood trail leading out of the building, and they were able to follow that and some scuff marks, ducking in and out of cover to avoid more Iraqis, until they reached an apartment block on the edge of town. 

The briefing packet had contained basic information about the missing soldiers. One was a sniper, highly decorated despite only being 24. Sergeant Barton was no doubt watching from the building's roof, so they gave the signal, as they had at the original building: two half-second flashes of red light, followed by one more a second later. 

This time, their signal was answered. When they got to the door, they were greeted by another of the missing men, a Private Harris. His leg was bandaged, and he was leaning up against the wall for support. "Dirty Dancing or Saturday Night Fever?" he asked quietly.

If Phil were less than a Ranger, he might've rolled his eyes. The code exchange was another one of West's brilliant ideas. "I'll take Borscht Belt over disco any day."

"Fuck, I am glad to see you, sir," Harris said, ushering them inside and sitting heavily on an overturned crate. "The sarge should be down in a minute."

The man in question appeared a few seconds later, having quickly and quietly descended the stairs. Phil couldn't see the auburn hair from the briefing packet under his helmet, but his blue eyes were sharp and assessing. "Sergeant, I'm Captain Phil Coulson," he said, "and with me are Sergeant Garza and Corporal Chalmers. We're your exfil team; we've got an Apache waiting about ten klicks from here."

"Sir," Barton said with a nod, and proceeded to give them a detailed sitrep. Harris had been hit by the dead Iraqi, but he was the only one in the squad who'd been injured. Their lieutenant had taken another man to get help, leaving Barton in charge of Harris and a Private Rose, who'd stayed on the roof to cover them. 

Phil kept what he thought of a lieutenant leaving his troops to himself and focused on the problem of getting Harris safely to the evac point. He'd have to arrange some transportation. He'd seen a few possibilities on the street, although it might not be easy to fit all of them in, especially considering Harris' leg. They might need more than one vehicle. A truck might work, although whoever ended up in the bed would have to stay hidden. Hopefully the engine noise wouldn't attract any of the enemy, although those who were able-bodied could push for a bit. That might attract the wrong kind of attention as well. "Garza, with me. Barton, we'll be back with transpo."

They ended up with two vehicles small enough that Barton referred to them as "clown cars." Barton also insisted on accompanying Phil in the front seat of the 1982 Cavalier, while Garza drove the 1975 Datsun. "You okay back there, Harris?" Barton asked.

"Fine, Sarge," Harris answered as Phil drove carefully down the street, headlights off. 

Barton put his fist up, and Phil stopped, watching as the Datsun behind them did the same. "What do you see?" he asked, just loudly enough to be heard. Barton slowly rolled the window down enough to ease the muzzle of his rifle through. "Get ready to hit it, sir," he answered just as quietly. 

The reports of the rifle were loud in the enclosed space. Phil pressed the accelerator to the floor and wished he'd been able to find something faster, absently noting as three very small figures fell from a roof at least a hundred yards away. If not for the moon, he'd never have seen them; he had no idea how Barton had managed to take both of them out so easily. "Nice shooting, Sergeant," he said, and got them the hell out of Dodge. 

***  
He didn't expect to ever see Barton again--Rangers and regular Army didn't tend to mix much--so Phil was surprised the next afternoon when Barton dropped a tray on the table in front of him in the mess. "Sergeant," he said, nodding.

"Sir," Barton said with a grin. The part of Phil he kept locked away in his head couldn't help noticing how attractive Barton was in the daylight, with no cover on his dark red hair and the sunlight making his blue eyes sparkle. 

They tucked in. Once they were down to what passed for dessert, Phil took a sip of water and said, "That was some impressive shooting last night, Sergeant Barton. It saved our necks."

"You think that was good, you should see my brother," Barton responded. 

"Oh? Where's he stationed?" Phil asked, curious. 

Barton shook his head. "Clint's not in the service," he said. "He's a college student. He's also a vegetarian, if you can believe it; refuses to shoot so much as a squirrel stealing from the bird-feeder back home. It's targets or nothing for my baby brother, but I swear, he's the best shot you've ever seen. Especially on the bow."

"Bow as in bow and arrow? Archery?" Phil asked, leaning forward. 

"Yessir," Barton replied. "He's a shoo-in for Barcelona, although he hasn't decided yet if he's sticking to archery or entering other events like I keep telling him to."

Phil stared at Barton, who had to be putting him on. "I've never heard of a marksman who was that good at guns and archery both."

"Yeah, they're not gonna know what hit 'em," Barton said through a mouthful of brownie. "It's okay if you don't believe me," he added after swallowing. "No one does." 

Phil could tell he was 100% sincere. "I believe you."

"Really?" Barton looked delighted. 

"Got no reason not to."

"Thank you, sir." Barton looked down for a second, rubbing the back of his neck. "Uh, can I ask you something, sir?"

"Sure," Phil said easily. 

"Would you be willing to put in a word for me with the Rangers? I know you don't know me that well--"

"Relax, Barton. I'd be happy to. We could use a sniper like you. If you make it through the program, of course."

"I'll make it, sir," Barton said. "That's a promise."

Phil believed him about that, too--and he was right, as he found out six months later, when Barton was assigned to his command.

_August 5, 1992, Fort Benning, Georgia_

They were somewhere they couldn't talk about doing something classified when the Barcelona games started, but they made it back to base in time to catch Barton's brother on tape delay as he wiped the floor with everyone in both archery and anything else involving shooting. "Clint told me they actually moved around some of the events so he could compete in everything," Barney--he'd become Barney round about the time he saved Phil's life for the third time--said as they watched the archery finals. "Course, no one believed he'd be able to do it." 

"No one but you," Phil said, smiling. He'd won a lot of money by betting on the younger Barton. 

"And you, sir," Barney answered with a grin. 

Phil raised his bottle in acknowledgment, his smile slipping off his lips. 

"What's wrong?" Barney asked, looking at him closely. They were in Phil's base housing--he had a little more room and a better tv--and Barney's girlfriend had left a couple of beers ago. 

Phil shook his head. "Just--you ever wonder if we're doing the right thing?"

"That last mission was a fucker," Barney acknowledged, drinking deep.

"It was," Phil agreed. "How much longer you have?"

"A year," Barney answered. 

"It's two for me," Phil said. "There's someone that wants to recruit me, though, said he might be able to get me out early. You ever hear of SHIELD?"

Barney looked away for a moment, thinking. "Maybe? Just rumors, though. You know someone there?"

Phil nodded. "He's a good man. A friend." Phil wasn't going to mention the connection to Peggy Carter; Barney already had too much ammunition about Phil's Captain America obsession. "Sounds like they're doing good work. 'Being the shield,' Marcus calls it."

"Marcus Johnson? The colonel? That's your friend?" Barney asked, leaning forward.

"He's going by another name now, but, yeah." Phil met Barney's eyes. "Might be able to bring you along. If you're interested."

"Interested enough to find out more," Barney answered. "Like I said, that last mission was a fucker."

Phil nodded. "I'll give him a call, see if I can get us a meeting."

***  
It took a few weeks for Marcus--who was going by Nick Fury now for some reason he'd refused to divulge--to get them out of their Army contracts, but eventually they both reported to SHIELD Operations Academy. Phil was frustrated when they were split into different classes, but apparently the director, a guy named Alexander Pierce, had strong opinions about creating new bonds within recruit cohorts. Phil didn't get to see Barney much at the Academy, but maybe Pierce had it right, because by the time he graduated, Phil had made some new friends: Melinda May and her husband, Andrew Garner.

He and Barney were posted to different bases, Phil in DC and Barney in New York, but they hung out whenever they were in the same city and kept in touch via email and the occasional phone call. Phil was disappointed he couldn't get leave to attend Barney and Laura's wedding; he'd been hoping to finally meet Clint.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I'm posting the second chapter already. Please don't expect that chapter three will happen any time soon, although I am trying to get things written and posted quickly, both to maintain my momentum and because of the utter awfulness of the world these days. Because of that, I'm posting unbetaed, but if you see any errors (like the two typos I corrected this morning, one of which Weeping Naiad pointed out, ack!), let me know so I can fix them.

_November, 1995, New York_

"Coulson," Phil said, juggling his phone, his coffee, and the file folders he was taking to his office. 

"Barton's missing," Fury said. "My office."

"Yes, sir," Phil said, dumping the files on his desk and turning to lock the door on his way back out. There was no use asking any questions; Fury had already hung up. 

***

Four days later, he was back in Fury's office, pacing back and forth across the carpet. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't go back and finish what I started with Rumlow and Rollins," he spit out. His arm was in a sling, he had a cut on his forehead, his knuckles were bruised and abraded from the punches he'd gotten in before Sitwell had pulled him away, and he was concealing a sprained ankle. None of that would stop him from beating the ever-loving shit out of those assholes as soon as he got the chance. He'd never liked them, but he'd certainly never figured they'd leave a fellow agent in enemy hands. "Did May tell you what they said?"

"Before you hit them? Yes, I heard. Laura Barton is on her way," Fury said. "Thought you might want to sit with her, let her know what's going on. The brother's coming too, I think. He was the one in the picture with Barney, right?"

Phil nodded, finally standing still. "How much am I allowed to tell them?" 

Fury shrugged. "Tell her it was bad intel. No details."

"Nothing about it being members of his own team?" Phil asked. "I thought things were supposed to be better here, Marcus. That's what you told me--told both of us." 

Fury dipped his head in acknowledgment. "They'll be punished, Phil. You have my word."

"And if Barton doesn't make it?"

"He'll make it. The kid's strong; you know that." 

"If he does, I want him." Phil stood strong and looked Marcus in the eye. "You owe me."

Fury steepled his hands. "Fine," he said after a minute. "You're level five, effective immediately, in charge of Strike Team Delta. Barton and whoever else you want."

"And if I just want Barton?" Phil asked. 

Fury sighed. "You want to lead the first two-man strike team? Be it on your head, then."

"Thank you, sir." 

"I hope he's worth it, Cheese."

"He is. I assume Laura's being directed to the family waiting room?" At Fury's nod, Phil left the office, still hiding his limp. 

He stopped at the mess to pick up two coffees and some food. He hesitated, then made one of the coffees decaf; he thought Barney had said Laura was still breastfeeding. If he was wrong, he'd go get her some from medical. 

"Phil, oh my God, are you okay?" she asked as he approached, no longer bothering to pretend he wasn't hurting. He'd promised Barney, back when they joined SHIELD, that he'd never lie to Laura, and he'd kept that promise, along with the one he'd made to Marcus not to tell her anything he wasn't supposed to. It meant saying "I'm sorry, but it's classified" a lot more than he'd like, but he'd managed. 

"I'm fine," he said, setting the food and coffee down to take her into his arms. "How are you?"

"How do you think I am?" she asked, sniffling into his shoulder. "What happened? They wouldn't tell me anything, just that Barney's in surgery."

"Bad intel," he said. 

"Really," she said. "That's the company line, huh?"

"It is," he acknowledged. "But we got him out, Laura. I will _always_ get him out."

"I know," she said, stepping back enough to see his face. "And he'll get you out, too."

"I know," he said, smiling a little. "Let me go check with the nurses, see what they can tell me." 

He left her sitting in one of the horrible plastic chairs and went to the nurses' station, where the clerk smiled at him reassuringly. She wasn't able to give him much, but at least it included who the surgeons were. 

"Dr. Garza is the best orthopedic surgeon on staff," he told Laura as he sat next to her, "and Dr. Streiten's the best neurosurgeon. It'll be a few hours yet before they're ready to close and take him to recovery. When was the last time you ate?"

"When was the last time _you_ ate?" she asked, picking up one of the sandwiches and handing it to him. 

"Last time I checked, I wasn't the one nursing a baby," he pointed out, but he took the sandwich anyway. "Where is he, anyway?"

"With a babysitter until my mom gets here," she said. "Barney never had Edith read in; I didn't tell her anything. She still thinks he works for the FBI."

"They'll move him to a civilian hospital as soon as he's stable, and she'll be able to see him then," Phil said. "How much does his brother know?"

"Just the name of the agency and that Barney's a sniper, like he was in the army. He keeps bugging Barney to tell him more, but he won't; he says he doesn't want to worry Clint."

Phil nodded in acknowledgment. "You got any new pictures of Cooper to show me?"

"You know I do," Laura said, reaching into her purse. "Don't think I don't know what you're doing, Phil."

"Hey, you're not the only one who wants a distraction," Phil said. "Now show me those baby pictures."

***

They'd been there an hour and ten minutes when Phil's phone rang. "Agent Coulson, this is Agent Kozcos in the lobby. There's a Clint Barton here asking about his brother."

"Send him up," Phil said.

"Sir, he doesn't have clearance for the medical floor."

"Send him up, Agent Kozcos," Phil said, pinching his nose. "That's an order. If anyone gives you a hard time, I'll take the blame."

"Yes, sir." Kozcos sounded ticked off, but Phil didn't give a damn. This might not have been the way he'd expected to be meeting Clint--he'd been invited to Thanksgiving this year up at the Barton farm, and he'd been looking forward to meeting both Barney's brother and their mom--but he would never keep the Barton brothers apart at such a time. Phil limped over to the elevator to make sure no one else tried to screw things up.

Phil thought he knew what to expect, but seeing Clint on television and in pictures did not prepare him for the man who stepped out of the elevator. Clint was well over six feet tall, and his Columbia Physics sweatshirt did nothing to hide the size of his biceps. From his artfully messy blond hair to the purple Converse (matching the purple hearing aids), he was by far the most attractive man Phil had ever seen. He felt familiar in some way, but maybe that was just the resemblance to Barney.

He shut his thoughts down. He was tired and worried about Barney, and he was projecting it onto his brother, that was all it was.

"You Coulson?" Clint asked, scowling mightily as he stalked towards Phil. 

Good God, his _thighs_ in those jeans. _Focus, Phil._

"Yes, Mr. Barton--please, follow me; I'll show you where you can wait."

"Not until you tell me what the fuck happened to my brother," Clint said, "and who the fuck allowed it to happen."

Phil took a deep breath. "There was some bad intelligence that led to Barney being injured. I can assure you that those responsible are being dealt with. Please, Laura's waiting; I'm sure she'd appreciate having you there with her."

As soon they rounded the corner and saw Laura, Clint started signing furiously. Barney had taught Phil the alphabet and a few words when they'd had downtime in the Rangers, but that was no help deciphering whatever Clint was saying beyond his obvious anger. 

"Clint, slow down," Laura said, signing at the same time. "He's in surgery. Phil's the one who rescued him, not the one who did this!"

Phil flushed. He'd known Clint didn't approve of Barney's choice of career, but he hadn't realized how much. "I, uh, I'll leave you--"

"Don't you dare, Phil," Laura interrupted him, still signing. "Barney would want you here. _I_ want you here. Once he gets his head out of his ass, Clint will, too."

"Wouldn't hold your breath," Clint muttered. He threw himself onto the chair next to Laura, his arms crossed over his impressive chest. He had a silver hoop in one ear, as if he hadn't been gorgeous enough already. 

Before Phil could dwell any more on the unfair attractiveness of the man who blamed him for his brother's injury, Dr. Streiten came out to talk to them. Clint and Laura shot up out of their chairs, and Phil went to stand behind them. "Mrs. Barton," Streiten said, reaching to shake hands. "Agent Coulson. And you must be Agent Barton's brother." He looked calm; Phil chose to see that as a good sign.

"How is he, doctor?" Laura asked, her voice catching. Clint put his arm around her shoulders. When Streiten looked at Phil, Laura said, "It's okay that Phil's here; just tell us, please."

"All right, if you're sure," Streiten said. "Agent Barton is still in surgery for his leg, but I've finished, and both Dr. Garza and I are optimistic about his chances. We'll be transferring him to the neuro ICU at NYU once he's out of recovery. He'll be in the ICU for at least 24 hours, probably longer. We won't know for sure until he wakes up--and that could take a while--but, as I've said, things look good. Dr. Garza tells me the surgery on his leg should be successful, but he'll have a long rehab before he's able to go back to field work."

"Thank you, doctor," Laura said, brushing tears from her eyes. 

Streiten squeezed her shoulder, then turned to Phil. "If you hadn't found him when you did, Agent Coulson, and if you hadn't done what you did to care for his wounds, he might have lost his leg, or worse. He's lucky he had you looking out for him."

Phil kept what he really thought inside. "I just wish I'd found him earlier."

"You found him sooner than anyone else would have," Fury said from behind him. Phil hadn't noticed his approach; he must be even more tired than he'd thought. "And now you're going to have that arm checked out, along with the ankle you thought I didn't notice. The medic you saw on the jet doesn't count. Mrs. Barton, Mr. Barton, can I talk to you?" He gave Phil a look that Phil knew better than to ignore, so he reluctantly made his way over to the desk to see who was on duty for a post-mission check. 

The nurse-practitioner who examined him made him promise to get some sleep, but Phil stopped by the waiting room again before heading to his quarters. Laura greeted him with a teary smile. "They're closing up; they'll be transferring him soon."

"I'm glad," Phil told her, hugging her back. "Text me his room number once you know it, okay? I'll be by to see him as soon as I can."

"Hey, Coulson? Uh, Phil?" Clint said, grimacing a little. 

"Yes?" Phil asked, reminding himself to stay professional, even when Clint actually smiled at him.

"Look, it's been pointed out that I was kind of a dick earlier. I'm sorry," Clint said. "And thanks. For saving my brother."

Phil said the same thing to Clint he'd said to Laura earlier. "I will always get him out, Mr. Barton."

Clint winced. "Please, it's Clint."

Phil nodded. "I will always find Barney, Clint. I promise. And when he gets back on his feet, he'll be working with me exclusively."

"Yeah, uh, that Fury guy said." When Clint ducked his head like that, his hand on the back of his neck, he wasn't just gorgeous. He was adorable. It was very disconcerting, as was the continued feeling that Phil _knew_ him on some deep level. He really did need to get some sleep.

"Good," Phil said. "Laura, give Cooper a kiss for me. I'll see you soon."

"Take care, Phil," Laura said. "And you're still invited for Thanksgiving, don't forget."

"I won't," Phil replied. "Thank you for including me."

***  
Phil didn't make it to the Barton farm for either Thanksgiving or Christmas; he was out of the country, dealing with the splinter group that had taken Barney prisoner. He figured that was a better Christmas present than any he could have given the family than his somewhat awkward presence; he hadn't been to a family Christmas celebration since his mother had died.

Once Barney was through with PT and back on the roster, the newly formed Strike Team Delta got to work. Within six months, they had the best record of any team in SHIELD history, far better than that of Rumlow's team, which unfortunately still existed. Phil wasn't one to gloat, not in public, but he and Barney grew even closer, and Phil found himself invited to dinner at his and Laura's apartment once a week, missions permitting. He often ended up on the floor, playing with Cooper, something he felt manifestly unprepared for. After a couple of months, however, Cooper seemed gratifyingly happy to see him, so Phil guessed he must be doing all right.

The Bartons all traveled to Atlanta for the '96 games; Phil was happy that Barney would get to be there in person this time. Phil himself cheered Clint on from the couch in his new apartment, having finally moved out from SHIELD housing. If he secretly wished he were there in the stands with Laura, Barney, Edith, and even Cooper, no one had to know. Barney and Laura liked him, sure, but he wasn't family. He didn't have one of those, not anymore. 

He wasn't sure if he were relieved or disappointed when SHIELD wasn't asked to help investigate the bombing. Relieved, he told himself, and made himself believe it.


	3. Chapter Three

_November 1997, Kingston, New York_

Phil had nearly missed Thanksgiving again, but Fury had acquiesced to Barney's strongly worded request (helped by the fact that Laura was pregnant again) to give not only him, but Phil, too, the long weekend, barring emergencies. They'd all gathered at Barney and Laura's apartment, since Fury's largess had not extended to allowing them to leave town. It made for a crowd around the table, but no one seemed to mind. 

Every single one of the Bartons had greeted Phil with a hug--even Clint, who hadn't done any of that manly-man backslapping shit but just wrapped Phil up in his arms like he was a member of the family--and both Edith and Laura had kissed his cheek. Cooper had demanded to be picked up and carried, and Phil had acquiesced to that much more easily than Fury had to their long weekend. There was a feeling in Phil's chest that he didn't want to name.

Thanks to hours of practice in safe houses with Barney, Phil was able to join in as everyone signed while they talked. Phil was barely better than Cooper, but Clint seemed to appreciate his clumsy attempts, smiling encouragingly at him and occasionally helping him with a word he could only finger-spell. 

Clint hadn't smiled much the last time they'd met. Phil should've been prepared for how it made Clint's eyes sparkle, and how his nose crinkled as he laughed, but as much as he tried to hold on to his expressions, he knew he was probably letting too much out into the open. From the knowing looks both Barney and Laura gave him, he knew they, at least, had clocked his attraction; a couple of times he thought Clint was looking at him speculatively, but it was probably just that he was still mostly a stranger.

Edith and Laura seemed genuinely excited about the cranberry sauce he'd brought, especially once Phil confessed it was one of the few of his mom's recipes that he'd managed to master. There were both vegetarian and regular versions of stuffing and gravy, and Clint had some sort of marinated tempeh thing he kept trying to get Cooper to eat, with hilarious results. Phil, when pressed, conceded it wasn't bad, then tried not to flush when Clint grinned and pointed his fork at him in triumph. Everyone praised his cranberry sauce, which Clint slathered over his tempeh once he'd tasted it. Phil had to admit it made the tempeh taste better, even if he still preferred it on Laura's perfectly cooked turkey. 

Once they'd cleaned up, put the leftovers away, and settled in the living room, nothing but crumbs of delicious pumpkin pie on their plates, Clint cleared his throat. "So, I have a couple announcements," he said. Edith was smiling in a way that indicated she already knew what her youngest son was going to say, but Barney and Laura looked curious. 

"Don't keep us in suspense--what's going on?" Barney asked. 

"I, uh, two things," Clint said. "First, I kind of got onto the US Biathlon team, so I'll be heading to Nagano in February."

The room was filled with loud questions and exclamations, mostly along the lines of "Why didn't you tell us?" and "That's amazing!" Cooper woke from where he'd fallen asleep on the couch next to Edith, startled by the noise, but as soon as he saw how happy everyone was, he toddled over to his uncle, who easily lifted him up onto the couch next to him and bussed his nose. It was, as so much about Clint turned out to be, adorable. 

"So you decided multiple events in the summer games weren't enough for you, huh?" Barney asked with a grin. "Had to do even more? How many gold medals do you even need?"

"Oh, I'm not going to medal," Clint said, ducking his head. "I'm not fast enough. I just wanted to give it a try."

"I'd say making the US team is more than just giving it a try," Phil said, laughing. "You are something, Clint Barton."

"He got the fastest time in the trials," Edith said proudly. 

"Yeah, I lucked out--the snow was wet and sticky, which plays to my few strengths. And the last time we medaled in biathlon was, let me think, _never._ Seriously, guys, I'll be lucky if I qualify; we've never even cracked the top ten."

"I have faith in you," Laura said, going over to him and kissing his forehead. 

"I'm just wondering how much cash Phil and I can make on this," Barney said, chuckling. "Last year was pretty lucrative. What do you think, Phil?"

Phil smirked. "I'm sure we can make it work. Clint, we'll be counting on you to do your part for Cooper's college fund."

Clint barked out a laugh. "No pressure, huh, buddy?" he said to the boy cuddled up next to him. Cooper giggled. The two of them together were so cute they should be weaponized. Cooper even had Clint's blond hair, although Phil suspected it would darken as he got older. After all, Phil had been blond when he was Cooper's age.

"Wait, you said two things," Laura said. "What's the second?"

"I moved in with Mom," Clint said with a shrug. "It's pretty much halfway between the city and Lake Placid, so I can come down to visit, and I can still head up to practice with the team. I've been coaching them in shooting for a few years now, so I'll keep doing that, no matter what happens in Japan, and after the games I can come down to help out with the baby."

"Best uncle ever," Barney said.

As the continued excitement enveloped the family, Phil got to his feet. "I should get going," he said when there was a lull in the conversation. 

"You're welcome to stay, Phil," Laura said. "The couch is free."

"Nah, he can take the bed; I'll take the couch," Clint said. 

"Good idea," Barney said. "He'll need to be well-rested for tomorrow."

"What's tomorrow?" Phil asked before he could stop himself. 

"Black Friday!" Clint and Barney crowed. They wore identical, manic grins. 

"How worried should I be right now?" Phil asked, but he couldn't help smiling back at them.

"I grabbed a couple of earpieces from work," Barney said, which, what? For _shopping?_ "Figured you could keep us on track, although you'll have to text Clint. After all, you are the best handler we've got."

"There will be _Star Wars toys,_ Phil," Clint said. "Barn says you're a Captain America fan, but come on, you know you need some Star Wars action."

Phil stared at the two of them for a moment more, then gave in. "Han shot first. Are we getting these action figures for Cooper, or for ourselves?"

Clint raised his arms and did a victory dance, lifting Cooper to sit on his shoulders. The top of Cooper's head nearly touched the ceiling, but Clint kept his dancing subdued enough to prevent any bumps. "The answer to that is both, Phil. _Both."_

"I'm going to regret this, aren't I?" Phil asked Laura. She just laughed at him. 

"Cooper, say good night to everyone," Edith said, and Cooper dutifully toddled his way around all of the adults, demanding kisses and hugs. 

Once Laura left to take Cooper upstairs, Phil took charge of the mission. "Okay, if we're doing this, we're doing it right. Come on, we need a plan of attack." He grabbed the pad of paper Cooper had been scribbling on earlier and sat down at the kitchen table. "Barton, get over here, and bring Barton. I'm going to grab my go bag out of the car."

"I'll report for duty as soon as I've read Coop a story. Maybe two. Three at the outside. You get started with Clint," Barney said, winking at Phil. Fortunately, Clint was facing the other direction and didn't see.

***

Phil didn't know how he'd ended up paired with Clint at FAO Schwarz. He was sure that hadn't been in the previous night's plan. The store was packed, and it was loud enough that Phil wished he had hearing aids to turn off like Clint did. At least the crowds kept anyone from asking for Clint's autograph, although it looked like several people recognized him. 

They had a list--it was on Phil's Blackberry, and Clint had a handwritten version as well--but they almost immediately went off-book, because Clint insisted on buying Cooper a bow & arrow set, even though he wasn't old enough for it yet. "I'm surprised he doesn't have one already," Phil said, signing it as well as he could. 

"Believe me, if I'd seen one of these before, I would've been all over it, but they're new. The ones I looked at a couple years ago weren't anywhere near this good, or this safe." Clint had turned to speak directly into Phil's ear, and Phil couldn't help shivering a little. From the look Clint gave him, he'd noticed, and it didn't look like he minded. 

They turned as one and headed towards the Legos, which were on the list, even if Phil was pretty sure they were supposed to buy them somewhere cheaper. They moved quickly together through the crowds, following each other's lead. It felt like when Phil and Barney were on a mission together. The realization startled Phil, and he would have stumbled if it wasn't for Clint reaching out to grip his shoulder. 

"Thanks," Phil said, turning so that Clint could see his lips. Clint stared at his lips a little longer than necessary. Phil licked his, and when Clint glanced up, he knew he wasn't imagining the heat in Clint's eyes. They stood there a few seconds, motionless in the mass of shoppers, until someone elbowed Phil hard enough that he had to hold back his instinctive need to flip the woman over his shoulder and onto the ground. 

Without another word, they were moving again. Eventually they made it out of the crush, loaded down with bags, and grabbed a taxi (Phil had not wanted to deal with parking his SHIELD issue SUV). 

Phil had been looking forward to having a chance to talk to Clint by himself, but before they'd gotten past shared exclamations of exhaustion and exhilaration, Barney called for a report (the claim that he'd had earbuds was a lie, and while Phil's professional side was relieved, his practical side had been disappointed). Clint put his phone on speaker as they did a thorough post-mission brief; by the time they finished, they were pulling up to the apartment. 

"You're just in time for soup," Laura told them as she opened the door.

Phil sniffed appreciatively. "Smells delicious."

"Don't worry, Clint, we got some of your lentil soup out of the freezer," Edith said, greeting her son with a hug and a kiss.

"Thanks, Mom," beelining for the kitchen. "Think I'll make myself a sandwich, too--shopping really takes it out of a guy."

"FAO Schwarz?" Laura said when she saw the bags Phil was carrying. "Clint--"

"Can't hear you!" Clint called cheerfully, his head in the fridge.

Phil shook his head and chuckled. "Can I take these upstairs for you, Laura?"

"That would be great, Phil," Laura said. "In the closet, if you wouldn't mind."

He told himself as he stowed the bags that he should leave. He would; he'd leave right after lunch. After all, he was starving, and that soup smelled fantastic. He didn't know what they planned to do for dinner--probably leftovers, and knowing the family as he did, he was sure they'd send him home with some. He'd go back to his (cold, lonely) apartment and get some work done, watch some trashy television, and eat leftovers in his pajamas. 

Several hours later, as he was patting his belly and continuing to bask in the controlled chaos of the Barton household, his and Barney's phones buzzed at the same time. 

"So much for the long weekend," Barney said, frowning as he saw the text from Fury. "Sorry, everyone."

Phil stayed silent; what he wanted to say wasn't appropriate with a toddler in the room. 

It only took a few minutes to grab their bags. Phil politely turned his head when Barney kissed Laura and Cooper goodbye. 

"Hey," Clint said. "Phil. Stay safe, yeah? You and Barney both." He was standing close by, his hands in his pockets, looking at Phil intently.

"We'll do our best," Phil promised, surprised when Clint stepped up to him and gave him another hug.

There were more hugs and admonishments before he and Barney made it out the door, but it was Clint's that Phil carried with him as he drove them to headquarters. 

***  
They were on the quinjet headed for the other side of the world when Barney laughed at something on his (personal, not SHIELD issued) phone. Phil leaned closer, figuring it was another picture of Cooper. 

_ask Phil can I have his number,_ the screen read. 

"Well?" Barney said, grinning.

"Barney...."

"What, Phil?" Barney asked, looking more serious. 

"I just--I value our partnership," Phil said. "I don't want to do anything to jeopardize it. Clint's your brother."

"Clint's a grown man," Barney said. "So are you. I know you both, and so does Laura. This could be good, Phil. For both of you."

"And if it isn't?"

"Then we'll deal with it. Why, are you planning on breaking his heart?"

"Of course not!" Phil exclaimed. "I wouldn't--your family is important to me, Barney." That was giving too much away, Phil knew, but he couldn't find it in himself to regret it.

"And you're important to us," Barney said. "Or hadn't you noticed you'd been adopted?"

Phil gaped at him. 

Barney laughed. "For someone so smart, you can be pretty dense sometimes, partner. Now, what should I say to Clint?"

Phil grabbed the phone out of his hand and started typing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's just pretend the US biathlon team is based in Lake Placid instead of Maine, okay?


End file.
